The Feline Diaries
by Delleve
Summary: Poor Fat Louie. He's comforted Mia, tries hard to not digest those socks, and has Fat in his name. All of this, and what time in the limelight does he get?
1. Damn Great Dirty Apes

**Summary:** Poor Fat Louie. He's comforted Mia, tries hard to not digest those socks, and has Fat in his name. All of this, and what time in the limelight does he get?

**Rated PG-13 **because Fat Louie is one angsty, mad, swearing, cackling cat. Really. He is. Just read on.

**Disclaimer: **Do you really think I own Princess Diaries? ... Well, I do own the books, actually, but do you honestly think that I'm Meg Cabot?

... Yeah. Didn't think so.

'Tis not mine. 'Tis Meg Cabot's and crazy Disney and their screwed up sequeling ways. I'm making no money off of this.

**AN:** This was inspired by a recent entry in Ms. Cabot's blog (or should I say temporarily Henrietta's blog?) where Henrietta (Meg's cat, in case you didn't know) decides to rant a little about how horribly under appreciated felines are and Fat Louie agrees.

Review and things.

**The Feline Diaries**

****

**Saturday, July 19th**

**12:57 AM**

Yes, I, Louis Thermopolis (fine, Fat Louie if you want to be insulting) now has a diary of his very own. And why should I not have one? Mia has a diary and just because I don't have any opposable thumbs does not deny a cat the right to have a journal ... though having no thumbs does make handling a pen difficult.

I love Mia, truly, I do, but why does she get all the glamour of being a princess? Why does she get all the fame and fortune? Why do cats get no recognition by the media???

I am royal by association, Katie Couric, and I would love an interview, but no. The cats are simply uncared for and receive no attention at all. I could rule Genovia, I so could. I'd make laws that everyone could benefit from, like the right to scratching all curtains and banning spaying and neutering permanently. I may just want to be a father, you know, Dr. Bribbs. You have no right to take away cats' manhood like you do. It's sick and cruel. You should go to jail, you evil bastard. BWAHAHAHA. AND I WOULD LAUGH. I WOULD CLAW UP YOUR LEG DAILY TO RIGHT THE WRONG YOU'VE DONE ME! I WOULD LAUGH HISTARICALLY WHILE DOING SO!

... Despite the fact that cats can't laugh.

Dammit.

BUT I WOULD STILL GET IMMNENSE JOY OF CLAWING UP YOUR LEG, YOU SICK BASTARD!!! MWOOOHAHA!

I could so take over the world like in Planet of the Apes, though cats would rule all humans instead of those damn great dirty apes. I already have the evil cackling down as you can see ... though cats can't cackle ... and I don't think the gorillas in Planet of the Apes really ever cackled either.

Just ignore those facts. You get the point anyway.

Oh, crud, Mia's woken up to use the bathroom. Must hide you because I think Mia might find it just a little strange to see her cat writing in a diary. Though cats should still have complete rights to writing in a diary if they want to, dammit.


	2. The Joys of Tuna

**AN: **Just to note, I doubt I'll be updating this too often. It's just really a little to-the-side thing of nonsense and a bit of a one-shot. It doesn't really even have a plot yet ... I suppose I need to think of one. If you have any ideas, feel free to e-mail me with them (see my profile).

Please review!

**

* * *

**

**Sunday, July 20th**

**11:12 AM**

Sleep is good, very good ... though waking up is never splendid. I suppose I could go back to sleep ... because cats can do things like that, you know. Eat or sleep ... eat or sleep ... eat or sleep ... because that is the question.

The feline life is great.

****

**Sunday, July 20th**

**1:22 PM**

Okay, I take that back. Being a cat is occasionally horrible.

I MUST GO VISIT THE MAN OF EVIL, DR. BRIGGS, TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, it's true; it's time for my yearly check-up tomorrow. Mia's NSync calendar never lies. And the truth it's telling is one that says "Fat Louie's Vet Check at 12:05 today!!!!" circled in black Sharpie marker on July 21st. I'll tell you one thing right now, if that man even considers giving me a shot, my claws are going to have brunch with his pants' leg. A very long brunch, I'll add.

DIE, SICK BASTARD, DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, if you'll excuse me whilst I go have a delicious can of tuna to drown my sorrows in ... though I don't think you can really drown in tuna. I mean, maybe if it's completely covering you and blocking your nasal passages and mouth like what all the snow does to humans who get trapped in avalanches ... but I still don't think you could actually drown in it. I think. Suffocate in it maybe...

Anyway, tasty tuna here I come!

****

**Sunday, July 20th**

**1:46**

Ah, the joys of tuna.

Though my life is still rather horrible at the moment.

Even the tasty fish can't fix that.

Though it can help, of course.

Indeed.

... I need help.

... Of the mental variety.

... I also need to stop writing all these one-sentence paragraphs.

... Now.

... Stop using so many ellipses would be good as well.

Okay. I'm all right now.

Maybe I should go sit next to my blue food bowl and cry for a while. Perhaps Mia will take pity on me and serve me some watered down milk if I do ... yes, that always works.

Mmm. Milkkkkk.


	3. Rambo of All Cats

**AN: **I apologize for Fat Louie's very random and hystericalness in this chapter. It really couldn't be avoided. It _is_ Louis Thermopolis and underneath the orange fur and sock-eating tendencies, he's just as insane as the rest of us.

Or, y'know, probably more ... a lot more.

**

* * *

**

**Monday, July 21st**

**10:57 AM**

Don't make me go. Please. Someone save me. Now. Before it's too late!!!!!!

... I suppose I'm not being very manly about this, am I?

I'm being ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous. Even Tigger from Winnie the Pooh wouldn't be this cowardly! This is shameful! Surely I'm stronger than a hopping-mad tiger! I mean, come on! I may not be able to sing that little song thing he does when he's hopping but I wouldn't want to! It's girly! I mean, a song for hopping? What kind of self-respected feline does that?

Well ... a girly one, I guess.

AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT TIGGER IS! GIRLY! UNLIKE ME, WHO IS ONE TOUGH AND HARDCORE MALE CAT!

Seriously, I am totally tough. Just last week there was this huge spider in the bathroom, and when I say huge, I mean the T Rex of spiders. This thing could eat a Chihuahua, no lies. And guess what I did when poor, innocent Helen let out this huge yelp of "OH, MY GOD, A SPIDER!"

I came running to the rescue, all right, totally poised for paw-to- ... leg? What do you call spider's legs, anyway? Is it just leg or is there a scientific name for it? I mean, like with humans, their funny bone is actually called a humerus bone (thank you Mia's Biology textbook) ... even though that's still, y'know, almost the same exact name, but whatever. Anyway, let's just call it paw-to-leg combat, okay? Yeah.

Anyway, I was totally the Rambo cat of the moment. I was NOT to be messed with. You DO NOT fuck with the Louis. It's just not simply done.

... What was I writing about again?

Oh, yes the ... gulp ... spider.

Anyway, I totally swept into the room, ready for the spider smack down, and that's when I saw the great beast, which was indeed very beastly. Not only could that so-called spider eat a Chihuahua, it could probably eat three ... and a nice pair of Mia's socks to go with it.

Honestly. It could. I'm not delusional.

Well, I suppose that could be debated but I'm not that delusional.

But I was scared. I was way petrified just like those kids in the second Harry Potter when they got all frozen and ... petrified-y. I was like Mrs. Norris ... except I don't have freaky red eyes and stalk students in the corridors. What was up with that, anyway? I have never seen a cat with red eyes. Ever. It disconcerted me a bit, I'll admit.

Er ... where was I?

Oh, yes, my lack of bravery when it comes to T Rex-sized spiders. Right.

Well, to make this as painlessly brief as possible ... I bolted. I ran far away. Helen could handle the situation; she's tough.

LIKE ME.

Y'know, except when it comes to spiders, especially the mammoth ones of most certain DEATH.

**Monday, July 21st**

**11:11 AM**

Oh, God, I'm not going to live through this. The Dr. Briggs visit I mean.

... Mommy ... hold me?

**_Please_**.


	4. HA to Hostility

**AN**: Believe it or not, I actually attempted to write some of this in Algebra. I got about a page written but had to stop because the person next to me was reading what I had written over my shoulder with a look of shock on their face. Let me tell you, they now must think that I am some insane maniac because I was in the mind of Fat Louie. of course. So because of this incident, I ask you, people of this planet, to please not read what the person next to you is writing whether it be a note, the rest of their science essay, or the ponderings of a slightly mental housecat. I know it's tempting but you probably don't even want to know and everyone on the planet finds it annoying. Just thought I needed to share. ;)

I also give you my apologizes for the lateness for this chapter. School sucks. Thank you for your time.

****

**

* * *

**

****

**Monday, July 21st**

**4:23 PM**

Doctors know nothing. They think they do (I quite personally believe it has something to do with their giant syringes, they're like an emblem of power over disease and the suffering of those who get stuck with them) but I'm sure you're already aware of this fact. Take Dr. Phil for example, who is constantly preaching about how to achieve weight loss. It does make you wonder if he's looked in the mirror lately considering he could do with shedding a few pounds himself. Speaking of Dr. Phil, I've also always wondered if he's ever looked into anger management because I believe it would do him some good, for the man is constantly yelling at the poor souls who come to receive his guidance from all around the country (or were brought before him unsuspectingly by their mothers).

Anyway, this fact of doctors' level of knowledge especially applies to the MAN OF EVIL, JONATHON BRIGGS!

Of course you aren't surprised by this fact, because it's world-renowned, but Dr. Briggs has surpassed his level of idiocy, which I believed impossible along with all other felines in the area. But believe it or not, Dr. Briggs has become even dumber. Why is this, you ask?

Because he thinks I have hostility issues and am depressed because I have no feline acquaintances to ... acquaint with.

HA! HAHAHAHA! I **LAUGH **at this ridiculous notion!

Little does he know that I am an acclaimed social butterfly ... well ... kind ... of ... sort of ... ummm...

Okay, so I don't have a best friend (EXCEPT MIA) and, okay, I don't really have any friends (EXCEPT MIA AND HELEN) but as for friends that are the same species I have approximately zero. BUT WHO SAYS THIS MEANS I'M DEPRESSED! I'M A FRIGGING CAT FOR GOD'S SAKE! HOW THE HELL CAN SOMEONE PHSYCOANALYZE CATS!

Because I'd just really like to know.

You can infer what you wish about the aggressiveness part of the psychoanalysis.

But I'll have you know that I don't think I'm the least bit hostile. At all. Not in the least. It's a fallacious suggestion from the start.

Well ... okay ... perhaps I could be considered just a _little _aggressive...

Oh, come on, that one time when I attempted to scratch all of the skin off of Mr. Gianini's legs doesn't count. He had been much too close to Helen. MUCH TOO CLOSE. I thought he was trying to cut off all air to her lungs!

...But apparently that wasn't the case. I didn't know that his apparent attempt to suffocate her was called making out. It was an honest mistake, really. Anyone could have made it.

Or ... not.

But I'm still not depressed and/or overly aggressive. So HUMPH.

Damn doctors and disgusting human beings with their gross and potentially life-threatening showings of affection.


End file.
